


what's a scout like you doing in a forest like this?

by Wintertree



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Jaws of Hakkon DLC, Meet-Cute, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 05:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16152506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wintertree/pseuds/Wintertree
Summary: in which lace gets a crush and saves krem from getting crushed (also he gets a crush too)





	what's a scout like you doing in a forest like this?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/gifts).



> just a little treat! I don't have a good title for this fic because I'm too sleepy to be literate

Lace breathes in the fresh, earthy air of the Basin. The skin on her forearms is still peeling from her last excursion to the Hissing Wastes. It’s an honor following the Inquisitor, and moreso to scout ahead and clear the path for their cause.

Just sometimes it wasn’t a… _comfortable_ honor.

Spooky as the Basin could be and as tenuous as their allyship was with the Avvar was, at least it was a lush and cool land, not unlike the Hinterlands in early spring. And the main camp was nice (not to mention she could put her tent on the blessed ground, and not up in a dizzyingly tall tree).

She’s perched atop the roots of a massive, old tree, and she can hear the calming sounds of the waterfall. The Inquisitor had returned from The Lady’s Rest earlier in the morning, which she was in no hurry to see herself after catching a peek at Bull’s pale face, a good shade greyer than normal. But apparently they had endeared the Inquisition’s cause to the fisherman, and Lace was setting out to strike a trade deal. Good salted fish would do wonders raising the soldier’s spirits, or even just her’s at the very least. Lace was about halfway there, but wanted to catch her breath after sprinting past several particularly pissy lurkers.

Just as she rallies herself to continue to the coast, a joyous shout rings out through the mists. She can hear several other woops and warcries, followed by the bellow of an angry bogfisher.

Scratch that, _several_ angry bogfishers.

Sighing, Lace pulls her hood down tightly and does a quick check on her bow and quiver.

_Oh well_ , she thinks, _at least there’s shade_. Groaning internally, she takes off, scampering down the hill before leaping on top of a thick trunk and using it as a bridge. A scary, scary bridge. But judging from the _..._ _creative_ Andrastian curses she can hear, these men may be her own. _Paragons preserve me._  

* * *

Krem ducks to avoid one of Skinner’s particularly nasty grenades.

“Watch your six!” he yells, but it comes out more scolding than particularly angry. He’s mostly annoyed with himself. It was a routine mission to check the Basin, maybe catch sight of that fancy bear everyone was clambering over themselves to find, and he just _had_ to slip and fall right on top of a bogfisher nest.

He buries his axe in the last of the beasts and points a finger at Dalish, her mouth already opening. “Not a word,” he cautions.

Maker’s balls, they are never going to let him live this one down.

Rustling was all the warning he gets before a Hakkonite bruiser rushes him from the bushes. Krem swears. It’s a small crew today, just him, Dalish, Skinner, and Grim. He quickly sidesteps the warrior, their warhammer glancing across his breastplate.

He quickly catalogues their injuries, but everyone seems to be fine. It’s not like bogfisher’s are particularly dangerous, but fighting off so many ( _and so loudly_ , he chastises himself) has left them all worn down.

Krem feels the prickly wash of magic as Dalish casts a barrier protection spell. He pushes back hard against the brute to make a quick opening, downing one of Stitches’ regeneration potions while he’s got the chance.

Sure enough, the Hakkonite bastards never travel alone. Another warrior pushes through, and an arrow barely misses Grim.

“There’s two bloody archers, keep moving,” Skinner hisses.

Sure enough, Krem can see movement in the trees. “Thanks, bit preoccupied.” Krem curses colorfully as he tries to keep the two warriors engaged.

He gets a lucky strike at one of them, felling him in a moment, but the bruiser remains upright. And pissed.

He can still feel the warm pulse of the potion keeping his muscles from giving up, but the bastard’s strong, each strike whistling through the air impressively.

“Watch your feet!” a shout rings out. Krem vaguely recognizes the woman’s voice, but it he thanks it all the same – he was just about to trip over a fire ward. Sure enough, there’s a Hakkonite mage on the scene. Great. This day couldn’t get any bloody better.

Suddenly the bruiser freezes and falls. Behind him, Krem can just make out an Inquisition scout next to the bodies of the two archers. She fixes her bow across her back in an instant. Again, there’s something about her that’s familiar.

“Run!” she yells. “Come on!”

“Boss, there’s just the one spellbinder,” Skinner calls back.

Glancing back up, the scout’s gone. But he remembers her better now, and while her name escapes him, he knows she’s one of the Nightingale’s more trusted assets.

“No– Chargers, we’re moving out.” Krem can tell Skinner’s displeased, but she just bites her lip. Dalish summons a short wall of ice in front of the enemy mage.

It’s to no avail. The bastard flits through the air like scraps of silk and appears in front of the group, placing painful fire wards under their feet.

Arrows quickly fly through the area, hitting and safely triggering the wards furthest away. In a blink of his eye, out rushes the scout – she’s a dwarf, and obviously skilled. She shoots off seval arrows at the mage at once before leaping back close enough for Krem to see sweat glistening on her temple.

She frowns at the mage, and it takes Dalish cursing for Krem to realize why. Despite the bombardment of arrows, the Hakkonite’s barrier pulses and glows, returning to being fully charged and protective.

“Ready to dance?” Krem asks. The dwarf flashes him a surprised look, but grins all the same. In an instant she’s gone, flitting to flank the mage as Skinner matches her on the other side. With a roar, Krem hoists his axe and charges. 

* * *

Twenty highly taxing minutes later, they’ve finally weakened the mage’s barrier enough for Aclassi to land the finishing blow. She hasn’t had much reason to speak directly to the Chargers before, but she’s quite familiar with them. They have, well, _impressive_ training routines in the Skyhold courtyard. Very...sweaty. And rippling pecs. She respects their form, that’s all. Plus, they're not shy about singing loudly in the Skyhold tavern.

She’s been in the Basin a while now, and while the fauna can be hostile, the Hakkonite cells are outright murder to deal with. Easy enough to sneak up on their rouges or beat back the warriors, but their near invincible spellbinders? Giant spiders be damned, Lace just wants to get back to the Hold and take a long bath in the river.

“Many thanks, without you our hides would have been tanned,” the warrior mercenary says. The dwarf in his company grunts and clasps him on the back before going to skin one of the bogfishers. Aclassi takes off his helmet and shakes his head, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

Lace finds a reason to divert her eyes, recovering unbroken arrows from the corpses. “Happy to help. I was just in the area and thought I’d lend a helping hand.” She turns back to the Charger, his eyes still tracking her. “Inquisition Scout Harding.”

He blinks at her a moment before grinning, grabbing her hand in a warm, firm shake. “I knew I recognized you. Cremisius Aclassi, but most call me Krem whether I want them to or not. Glad to see a friendly face.”

“As opposed to what?” she says, gesturing to the bodies around them. “Looks like you have to beat admirers off with a stick.”

Aclassi laughs, open and bright. “That’s one way to put it. We should have moved out faster when you said so.”

“Really?” Lace asks, genuinely surprised. From what she knows of the Chargers, they don’t seem like ones to blindly follow random orders shouted from the bushes.

“In my experience, when someone tells you to run from ten mages, you retreat. Three mages, you land a couple of good thumps as you head for the hills. But to run from _one_ mage? You don’t just run, you fling yourself off a cliff and pray Andraste shows you mercy.” Aclassi– _Krem_ sighs and rubs his shoulder. “We just went five to one and I’m going to be as bruised as peach tomorrow.”

“Stop flirting and lend me your pack,” the elf mage tuts. Lace can feel her cheeks heat.

He scowls and passes his pack off to her. “Fine, but you’re carrying.” He turns back to Lace, rubbing at the back of his neck. “So, what brings you out here?”

“Other than the murderous locals, I was on my way to talk to some of our friendlier neighbors along the lake.”

“Want company?” he offers. Lace checks the sun through the mist – it’s lower now than she had hoped. She’s a bit surprised at how much she wants to say yes, but she knows she needs to walk alone and with a light tread if she wants to avoid any more skirmishes.

Krem gives her a rueful smile as she tells him as much. “Then I look forward to seeing you back at camp, if that’s all right. I’m sure you’ve got stories to tell from the front lines.”

“Sure, and I’ll have some fish,” she blurts out. He gives her a confused grin. Forget her stone sense, she doesn’t have any good sense either.

They awkwardly nod and say their farewells to head in opposite directions. Lace kicks herself all the way to the pier.

 

Later that night, Lace returns to camp with a successful basket of salted perch. She’s finally ready for that bath, but she's also surprised to see Krem sheepishly waiting by her tent. He stands as soon as he sees her, dressed now in leathers rather than his heavy armor, and a flask of ale in his hands rather than an axe.

He blinks and points at her basket. “You _do_ have fish.”

A dizzying feeling strikes Lace. _Oh,_ she thinks, _I’m rather stupidly charmed_. 

* * *

Krem nearly feels like crying when he learns her first name is “Lace.” It’s so fitting and beautiful it just loops in his head on repeat. _Lace Lace Lace._

He’s arguably a bit tipsy when he tells her that, but she just blushes and swats at his arm. Maker, _her_ arms are thick and well-defined with muscle and strength. It’s obvious she’s a master at the bow, and it makes him wonder if she could lift him when he’s wearing his heavy plating. She blushes deeper when he tells her that too.

Maybe he should stop telling her things like that.

Krem doesn’t let that thought bother him too much, though. She tastes of brine from their dinner (at the very least he’s sure he does), but her kisses are sweeter than he could have ever imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a quick fact: if you turn one the trial where all enemies match your level at the least, and if you go to the Basin at too high a level, the mages ARE impossible. Once it literally took me 20min, because the moment you don't have all four members of your party constantly leveling their most powerful abilities at the mage, their barrier WILL go back to being 100% and you have to do this bullshit all over. I love this DLC but... I cry.
> 
> Another fact: you're absolutely lovely at giving thoughtful comments every year, and I hope this treat does your prompt/pairing some justice
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)


End file.
